Romance 101:Angel Edition
by RealGuitarHero93
Summary: Yes, I put my self in a fanfiction. yes, I made one of the characters fall in love with me. Why? Psh, who wouldn't? p.s. COMMENTS PLEEEEZZEEEE!
1. Chapter 1

His deep sapphire gaze seared through my skin, my cheeks burning. The man sitting across from him in their tiny window-side booth gestured wildly, loaded fork in hand. I lifted my menu up further in front of my face to ease the intensity, but I could still feel his gaze burning through the cheap, plastic covering.

"Cas!"

A rough, irritated voice caused my head to jerk up. His wide, liquid-blue orbs were averted, instead glancing at the man directly across from him. His face was set in confusion and his head tilted to one side.

With his attention directed elsewhere, I took the opportunity to look him over. His hair, a dark luscious brown, was wind-blown and mussed up in a rather sexy fashion. His crisp white dress shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing the tan skin of his lower neck. A solid blue tie hung loosely around his neck and an oversized trench coat seemed to swallow his petite frame.

I tilted my head, my eyes scanning over his black, pleated dress pants and perfectly unscuffed dress shoes.

"What could POSSIBLY be more important than this, Cas?!" the deep voice rumbled.

His companion was leaning across the generic faux-wood table between them. His elbows resting on the table's edge, his meaty-looking hands curled into tight fists.

_Damn, _I thought. I was literally scared for the guy. The man he was with was probably a good 3 inches taller than him and had him by at least 50 pounds, all most likely pure muscle. To make is simpler, the man could probably make him his bitch. But he never wavered. His intense gaze still inhumanly strong, his head still tilted in that "confused puppy" manner. He seemed to be analyzing every single thing that came out of the other man's mouth to the smallest detail.

I continued to stare, not even acknowledging the waitress who set the steaming mug of hot chocolate on the table next to me.

His companion still ranting, he stole a quick glance at me, his expression unchanged. A shock of electricity jolted me upright, our gazes connecting instantly. His wide, innocent-looking eyes bore a hole through my skin, burned into my heart. In the short amount of time it took for him to flicker his gaze at me, it felt like he was staring into my soul.

* * *

I paced the dingy motel room, hands jammed into the pockets of my ripped jeans. It had been a week since the encounter at the small town diner, but every time I closed my eyes large crystal blue irises dissected me. Tearing away my skin in layers, searching for the complexities of my soul. I shivered in voluntarily.

"I don't know, Genna. I just can't shake this feeling."

My best friend and fellow hunter set down the .38 pistol she was cleaning, slinging the rag over her skinny shoulder.

"I still think you should've shot 'em," she said matter-of-factly.

I stopped pacing ad stood in front of her, hands on my hips.

"Why would I shoot him? For all we know, he's just a really intense tax accountant!"

Genna shrugged in defeat.

Though we were pretty much separated at birth; same taste in music, clothes, etc, Genna had a tendency to shoot---or stab, whichever was most convenient at the time---first and asks questions later, and it made working with her difficult at times.

I sighed and flopped on the queen-sized bed next to hers.

"Look," Genna said, wiping her small hands on the stained rag, "I have an idea that will take your mind off of this creepy-trench coat-guy."

I propped myself up on my elbows and glared at her through my bangs.

She grinned and tossed the rag at me.

"**Road Trip!!"**


	2. Chapter 2

"Why did I let you talk me into this again?" I asked slumped behind the wheel of my 1970 Corvette. Genna turned up the radio and attempted to dance as "Here in You Arms" flowed from the speakers.

"Because you love me," she said, grinning widely. We passed a rest-stop sign on the side of the highway and she nudged me.

"Food break?" she asked. I sighed. You'd never know that she was practically a vacuum when it came to food just by looking at her. I still can't figure out where she puts it all.

"Yeah. We're making good time. A break won't hurt us," I said, pulling off onto the exit.

"Yay! Food!" Genna screamed, turning the radio up even more.

Yeah, sure she's a nut, but I love her all the same.

I gingerly picked up the stained menu; quick to drop is as my fingers brushed a sticky spot.

"Ugh. You sure you wanna eat here?"

Genna was extremely engrossed in her menu, scanning over prices, side dishes, appetizers, and entrees.

"Genna!"

She lifted he head up slowly, huge hazel eyes still glued to the endless variety of salads.

"Yeah," she said, far off in her little "food-heaven."

I sighed and slumped back in my seat. That's when I recognized the dark brown mussed up hair and the billowing trench coat.

"No fucking way."

* * *

He was once again with his loud-mouthed companion, except now I could clearly see the face the mouth belonged to. I had to do a double take. Green eyes that were almost 40% of his entire face, full lips, short spiky dark blonde hair. His slumped posture, plaid flannel shirt. A name flashed in my mind.

_Winchester._

"Genna," I whispered, shell-shocked.

"Genna!"

"What?!" she yelled, slamming her menu on the table.

My eyes searched over the two men. No reaction.

"Shh!!" I hissed, never taking my eyes from the beautiful back of his head.

"It's him," I squeaked, raising a shaking index finger in their direction.

Genna slowly turned around.

"Oh my God," she mumbled.

"You got in a staring contest with one on the Winchesters?" Genna asked, her hazel eyes swallowing her face.

"I mean…WOW…You were _actually_ creeped out by that. Jeeze. _I wouldn't_ be. That man is GORGEOUS! Except he doesn't really look like a trench coat kind of guy and his eyes aren't blue…"

"Genna!" I hissed, placing a hand over her mouth. Her hands, which were waving wildly, fell limp in her lap.

"I wasn't talking about Winchester. I'm talking about the one with Winchester."

She pushed my hand away and stole another glance at Winchester and his trench-coated buddy. She turned back to face me.

"Oh," she said quietly, casting her gaze down at the table.

"Yeah," I said, smiling slightly, but not meaning it.

Genna drummed her fingers on the table top and looked around her.

Then it happened.

"Do you know how much of a legend the Winchesters are?" Her voice had raised an octave, in pitch AND volume.

"And to be here?! Right now?! With one of them here in the same place?! It's….it's…"

She clutched her chest with one heavily ringed hand.

"God! It's an HONOR!

I'm not worthy!!!!"

Yeah. I forgot to mention. Genna was also a bit of an over reactor.

"Genna!" I yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders. I know for a fact that by now people HAD to be staring. Dean Winchester and mystery tax accountant included.

"Take it easy," I said my voice softer. She stared at me, he eyes wide, and blinked rapidly.

"In and out," I reassured, motioning breathing with my hands, exaggerating the inhale and exhale movements.

Genna watched me closely and mimicked my motions.

"Good," I said.

As I calmed her down, I stole on last glance at Dean Winchester's table.

Empty.


	3. Chapter 3

He walked in silence alongside his charge, his eyes cast downward. Cracks in the sidewalk passed under his feet, reminding him of the many rivers and streams viewable from Heaven. He sighed.

Her face constantly haunted his mind, sending shivers through his wings, causing the tips of the brilliant white feathers to curl. Though he was a bit more familiar with human emotions and experiences---pie and excitement being two of Dean's favorites---he was in the dark when it came to this new sensation. If felt like he couldn't quite catch his breath, and being in a state where he really didn't need to breathe, it frightened him. He found it difficult to concentrate and often stared at Dean or his brother and sisters blankly; this did NOT receive a pleasant reaction, especially from Dean.

"Cas! What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you tripping on some kind of 'angel dust' or something?"

Castiel hung his head and tried not to stare directly into Dean's green eyes, frustration evident in his strong stare.

"No, Dean," he answered softly.

He lifted his head slowly, bracing himself for the intense disappointment in Dean's eyes.

He had let his charge down. He had forced Dean to question his abilities and that was worse, he felt, than falling.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said, his voice stronger.

"I didn't mean to disappoint you."

Dean's shoulder muscles relaxed and he blew a slow stream of air through his plump lips. Castiel watched intently as Dean ran a rough hand over his face and through his short, dark blonde hair.

"It's…it's alright, Cas," he mumbled, avoiding the angel's immensely curious gaze.

"Just stay focused, okay?" He said, his expression hardening once again. He captured Castiel's blue eyes with his own emerald spheres. Castiel nodded slightly and bowed his head as Dean turned sharply on his heel and continued on.

Castiel sighed and shook his head, trying to rid his mind of her chocolate brown eyes, her brilliant childish smile, and her round soft face that radiated innocence…

(lol yea I'm really glorifying myself in this, huh? Hey, it's my imagination. =])

* * *

"I know! Let's go see the World's Largest Ball of Yarn!"

Genna lowered the pamphlet to gauge my reaction. But my mind was elsewhere.

_I can't believe this!_

_How…?_

_How is it possible that I just run into him??_

_In that diner?_

My head was swimming.

_Is he following me?_

_Should I have shot him, like Genna said?_

_Does he know that we do?_

"Earth-to-Kellie! Come in, Kellie! Yoo-hoo! Any one home?"

I snapped out of my thoughts as a bony-knuckled hand rapped against my skull.

"Ow! What?!"

"Sheesh. You don't have to yell!" Genna whined, crossing her arms over her barely-existent chest.

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my attention on the country road ahead of us.

"What, Genna?" I asked through gritted teeth, my voice strained.

"I don't think I wanna tell you anymore," she pouted, refusing to look at me.

"If you weren't being so angsty, maybe you would have heard me the first time."

She put extra emphasis on ANGST, flicking her hands at me.

I hugged loudly and tightened my grip on the Corvette's steering wheel.

"I'm NOT being angsty," I mumbled, sticking my bottom lip out in defiance.

"It's just…"

I was cut off when a jet black, slick-looking 1967 Chevy Impala caught my eye. It was parked on an angle off the side of the highway, two rough-looking men standing of one side of it, doing what appeared to be a tired change. I slowed the Corvette and whistled as we passed the Impala.

"Nice."

* * *

She struggled against her restraints, sweat pouring down her face.

"No! God. Please. No!"

A long, serrated knife was held in front of her face and her captor clamped a heavy, gloved hand over her mouth.

_This can't be happening._

_This can't be happening._

_Please let this not actually be happening._

"Shh," a hoarse voice whispered directly into her ear. Their breath was hot and raised goose bumps on her bare arms.

"This will all be over soon. Just stay very still."

Before she could let out another cry for help, the knife was brought to her chest and plunged in deep.

She was dead before the scream even left her mouth.

* * *

He scanned the newspaper article, face set in concentration.

"Whatcha got there, Sammy?" his brother asked, quickly taking his eyes from the road to glance at the paper ins Sam's hands.

"I think it might be a job, but nothing seems too out of the ordinary just yet."

He finished the paragraph he was on and looked over at his brother.

"Just some girl went missing a few weeks ago and there's no evidence leading to where she could be. But you and I both know that there could be a whole lot more to this."

Dean swallowed and glanced at Sam knowingly.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Sammy-boy."

He smirked slightly, a hint of his perfectly straight white teeth showing through his full lips.

"So, where're we headed?"

Sam scanned the article and jammed a finger on the location the girl was last spotted.

"Jefferson City."

Dean whistled, his eyebrows rising.

"That's a ways from here. Guess you know what that means…"

Dean looked at his little brother expectantly.

Sam's blank expression was his only response.

"Dude!" Dean said a hint of disbelief in his deep voice.

He reached over and flicked on the Impala's radio. The first kick-ass guitar strains of ACDC's "Highway to Hell" rumbled from the speakers.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam, his green eyes sparkling.

"It means…

**Road Trip!!"**


	4. Chapter 4

Genna leaned closer to the flat screen of her laptop. She scanned the news story, her bright hazel eyes squinting.

"Hmm," she said, placing her head in her left hand as she scrolled through the info.

I sat across from her, at yet ANOTHER diner, cradling a cup of hot chocolate in both hands.

"Find anything, Sherlock?" I asked, grinning when Genna shot me an irritated look.

"Actually, yeah. I did, smart ass," she said, straightening in her seat and stretching her long, skinny arms behind her head.

"Lay it on me."

"Says here that a few weeks ago, a young girl, Maria Gazpacho, went missing. She was last seen at a shopping boutique in Jefferson City, Missouri. Her family got freaked when she didn't show up to her sister's baby shower, so they alerted the local authorities."

I snorted.

"Kellie, what is it with you and cops?" Genna asked, looking up from her computer, he eyes narrowed to feline-like slits.

"They're always in the way and claim that they're just doing their job, but all they're doing is our job and sucking complete ass at it."

Genna rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the story in front of her.

Ever since I got into hunting---and I don't mean deer hunting or deer hunting; I'm talking monsters, ghosts, things your nightmares would pee themselves thinking about---I've always distrusted law enforcement. They always went after the wrong people, i.e. me, thinking that they were ridding the country of one more baddie. It made me sick.

"Anyway," Genna said, pulling me out of my thoughts, "there really isn't much here, but we've gone after less."

Genna looked at me expectantly, reaching up to close her laptop.

"So?" She asked, crossing her arms on the table top.

"Whadduya say, Kells Bells? We got a job?"

I looked up from my half empty beverage and into the anxious eyes of my friend.

She loved hunting. Possibly even a little too much. If there was even a miniscule chance she would get to shoot something, she was all over it.

I stood up from my seat, jingling the Corvette's keys in the pocket of my purple windbreaker.

Genna's whole body went rigid and she stared at me, like a hyperactive dog in desperate need of something to fetch.

_Throwtheballthrowtheballcomeonthrowthefreakinball._

I tossed money on the table and grinned at her.

"Let's motor-vate."

* * *

Michelle sighed as she locked the door to her rundown apartment. Her head throbbed.

_Need coffee._

_Need coffee._

_Need coffee._

She thought groggily.

_What a night, _she thought, slinging her overstuffed Twilight purse over her shoulder and placing a cold hand on her forehead.

She was not looking forward to another day of folding and re-folding Tripp pants and Skulanimals hoodies at the crummy Hot Topic in the suffocating town mall. Her boss, Megan, thought she was God's gift to the world and she made it more than clear to everyone.

Michelle huffed. Tucking a loose strand of black-brown hair behind her heavily pierced ear, she searched he bag for her car keys.

"God dammit, where the fuck are they?!"

She had just wrapped her fingers around the familiar cool metal ring of her key chain, when an arm wrapped around her neck, the keys---and her purse---falling to the cracked sidewalk.

As she struggled, the arm tightened, cutting off her air supply. She clawed at the arm, but to no avail.

_No please Go no._

_Not before I've had my coffee!_

The dark grays and reds of the surrounding apartment buildings and businesses blended in a brilliant swirl. Michelle gasped loudly, and then everything went black.

_**Hey! Who turned out the lights?!**_

Sam straightened his tie and ran his fingers quickly through his unruly brown hair. Dean stood beside him, fake Fed badge in hand. He looked up at his mammoth sibling and straightened his posture.

"Ready Sammy?" Dean whispered, cocking an eyebrow at the taller man.

His brother's silence was his cue.

"Good morning. I'm Special Agent Hendrix and this is my partner, Agent Rhodes. Are you Mrs. Gazpacho?"

The middle-aged woman at the door was half the size of Dean. He oval-shaped almond-colored eyes were glazed over and red-rimmed---Sam felt his business-like expression soften---from crying.

The woman opened the door far enough to stick her head out. Her thin eyebrows scrunched together inquisitively as she absorbed the two men and the badges they held up simultaneously.

"Yes, I am. What can I do for you, Agents?"

The brothers stuffed their badges back into their suit coats. Dean cleared his throat.

"We understand that your daughter has gone missing," he said.

Mrs. Gazpacho's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, she has, but I was told they called off the search. They didn't say anything about getting the Feds involved."

Sam's face hardened and he glanced at dean from the corner of his eye.

"They actually didn't call the search off. They just handed the case over to us," Dean replied, without missing a beat.

Mrs. Gazpacho's expression went blank.

"Oh," she whispered, casting her eyes downward.

"Would you two gentlemen like to step inside for a moment? I have tea and cookies." She smiled weakly and held the front door open wider.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Dean beat him to it.

"We'd love to."

The Gazpacho's living room was enormous, generously decorated with antiques, flowers and small angel statues. Gigantic chandeliers hung from the spacious ceiling and the leather couches and recliners plastic-covered. Dean ran a hand over the transparent sheet covering a child-sized sofa and rolled his eyes.

"Please sit," the short Hispanic woman said, waving her hands at the furniture.

The brothers stiffened and looked at each other uncomfortably. Sam shifted back and forth on his feet. Dean glanced behind him at a rather ugly painting and scratched the back of his head.

"Go on. My furniture doesn't bite."

Mrs. Gazpacho let out a pitiful laugh and disappeared into the next room.

Dean's eyes came to a small wooden chair, sans plastic, and walked quickly to it. He lowered himself on it, grinning widely at Sam who stood next to a floral –decorated couch, eyeing it suspiciously.

Dean's butt rested gently on the wooden surface.

CRACK!

"Is everything all right in there?" Mrs. Gazpacho's voice wafted from the other room.

Dean's eyes grew wide as he stared at the kitchen entry way from his spot on the floor. The wooden chair in pieces scattered around him. Sam choked back a laugh and rushed to help his brother up.

"How the HELL did you managed to break something already?" he asked, his whisper broken by giggles.

Dean grabbed a hold of Sam's wrist and they worked together to get him back on his feet.

He glowered at Sam and bent to gather the stray pieces.

"Shut up and help me, will ya? Where's a good place I can hide this?"

The boys picked up each and every piece of the destroyed chair, deciding to stash the mess behind one of the rose bushes in the front yard. They managed to plop onto a couch just as Mrs. Gazpacho entered the room with a large tray of cookies and three cups of tea.

"I hope you boys like cookies. Seems I had more than I thought."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Genna straightened her blouse and smoothed down her long brown ponytail. She bared her teeth at her reflection in the glass of the storm door.

"Genna!"

She jerked her head up to look at me then lowered her eyes to the ground in a child-like fashion to show me she would behave herself.

I reached up a hand and pressed a painted fingertip to the door bell.

"Hello. You must be Mrs. Gazpacho. I'm Kellie Ackles and this is Genevieve Collins. We're reporters from the Jefferson City Tribune and were wondering if we could talk to you about your daughter, Maria."

The short and plump middle-aged woman wore a tired sort of pissed-off expression.

"Look, I don't have time for visitors right now," she said, eyeing Genna and me suspiciously.

"We understand," Genna said, he large eyes radiating warmth.

"We just needed a few things for a memorial. It won't take long."

Mrs. Gazpacho's gaze flickered from Genna's earnest expression to the pad and pen clutched in my hands. She sighed.

"I supposed so," she huffed.

"But I'm not inviting you in. I made that mistake earlier today. Two Feds; come in, asked me about Maria, ate cookies, and broke my great-grandfather's hand-made chair!" Her mouth was set in a tight, straight line and her pudgy little hands were curled into tight fists.

"Wait, Feds?" Genna asked, her heavily made-up eyes reflecting curiosity.

"Yes. Special Agent 'Hendrix' and hi green-giant-of-a-partner, Agent 'Rhodes.' I'm not an idiot. I've been a fan of Jimmi and Ozzy for years!"

Genna whipped her head around to look at me. _No way, _she mouthed. I scrunched my eyebrows at her in confusion. She ignored my probing expression and turned back to Mrs. Gazpacho.

"What exactly did they ask you about your daughter, Mrs. Gazpacho?" Genna asked.

"Silly things," the woman replied, rolling her oval-shaped eyes.

"Like if Maria seemed scared or worried about something. If she complained about hearing or seeing anything, I don't know, out of the ordinary."

Genna listened intently, nodding and "mm-hmm"-ing when called for.

"I'm sorry ladies, but I have to finish finding a furniture rest orator," Mrs. Gazpacho said after she told us everything she could about her previous guests.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Gazpacho," Genna smiled, taking the woman's one pudgy hand in hers. "And we're very sorry for your loss and any trouble we've caused."

The woman's expression softened considerably and she gave Genna a warm smile.

"Have a good day," I said, as she slipped back into her home, the door closing quietly behind her.

"So," I said, raising an eyebrow at Genna as we clomped down the old porch steps.

"What do you know that I don't?"

* * *

Dean almost had a heart attack. No, not because of the greasy cheeseburgers he inhaled without tasting, and not because of the pie he was no doubt addicted to. As he pushed open the cheap motel room's door, loosening his tie, Castiel's powerful blue eyes looked up at him.

"God, Cas!" he rasped, regaining his regular heart beat.

"Why don't you call first like normal people?!"

Castiel's mouth twitched in a slight smile.

"I'm not a normal person, Dean," he replied, stepping aside as Dean entered the room and tossed his rented suit jacket on the nearest bed.

"Nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh-nyeh," Dean mocked, placing his fake badge on the poorly made wooden table. He eyed the single chair uneasily. Not wanting a repeat of the day's previous events, he opted for the spot next to Castiel on the one bed.

"How did your day go?" the angel asked in his usual monotone.

Dean snorted, laying back and putting his hands behind his head.

"Not well, I presume?" Castiel said in more of a statement than a question.

Dean sighed and propped himself up on his elbows.

"I know you didn't just decide to show up to see if you could scare the shit out of me, then start a casual conversation with me," he said, eyeing the angel warily.

Castiel inhaled deeply but remained silent

Dean's voice lowered.

"Why are you here, Cas?"

The blue-eyed angel avoided Dean's inquisitive stare. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't bring himself to. He hated feeling like this, especially when he couldn't give a name to it. But he wasn't sure if his charge would understand, or even listen for that matter.

"Cas?"

The angel finally turned to look at his charge.

"Dean…"

He couldn't find the right words, which was highly unusual for him.

"Yeah…?" Dean pressed, sitting straight up on the bed.

Castiel closed his eyes and breathed deep. His charge would understand; Castiel had faith that he would.

"I haven't been feeling like myself lately. I feel…strange. It's different and I don't know what to do. Ever since we were in that one food establishment a few days ago and then the other time after that…"

Dean held up a hand to cut in.

"Okay, I'll just pretend that you didn't just call a diner a 'food establishment,'" He held up his hands for quote fingers, "but what exactly do you mean?"

Castiel fiddled with his vessel's fingers.

"Do you remember that one young woman? She was at both umm…'diners' we were at. Once by herself and then the other time with a friend."

"Wait," Dean said, a pensive look on his face, "you mean the really skinny loud-mouth chick with all the rings?"

Cas nodded.

"Yes, but I'm actually referring to the other woman."

Dean wracked his brain for a specific face. He's seen plenty of young women in his life time, but none like the one Castiel was describing. Then it hit him.

The one crisp, clean morning when he had been at a small town diner, Sam once again with Ruby, and Cas had appeared out of nowhere and sat across from him in the booth. There were only a small handful of people that early in the morning. Dean's mind crossed over tired-looking truckers, an older couple with probably nothing better to do, and one other person; a young woman, he guessed around 20 years of age. Her head was bent over a menu, her shoulder length, purple and red tinged hair curtaining her face.

_So she's what he was so interested in. THAT'S why he hadn't heard a word I said! _He thought.

Dean looked up slowly at the angel, his blue eyes wide. Poor guy looked lost, hopeless, like a newborn puppy.

"No way," he breathed, staring up at Castiel in disbelief.

"What? What is the matter, Dean?" Cas asked, his face expressionless, but those large blue orbs spilling over with panic.

"Cas

I think you might be in love."


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel's head felt like it was spinning. He struggled to stay focused on his charge's wide green eyes, but he was too dizzy. Dean's mouth moved but the angel couldn't hear a word he was saying.

_Love?_

But angels couldn't feel. Well, the blue-eyed angel was a bit of an exception, but still…

_LOVE?!_

Dean's worried face was the last thing Cas saw clearly. The motel room swirled around him and he started feeling weightless. The weightlessness subsided as soon as he fell backward off the bed.

* * *

"Okay, so let me get this straight."

Genna and I were wandering through the busy city streets, searching for a decent-looking food joint.

"These guys use the names of classic rock artists as covers."

Genna adjusted her ACDC messenger bag that was slung over her shoulder and nodded.

"It's kind of like their 'thing.' Sort of like a Trademark for the Winchester boys."

Throughout my hunting career I had come across other hunters, looked at battle scars and heard numerous stories. The Winchesters no doubt came up, countless times, but I never took real interest. Yeah, Yellow-eyed Demon.

Yeah, John's death.

Yeah, Dean's deal.

The gossip simmered down after Dean dies, but it wasn't long until people started talking again; about angels, Lilith, the Apocalypse. I was just not getting into it, digging up as much as I could from the depths of Genna's brain.

"Hmm."

I'd heard stories of Dean's cockiness, Sam's geekiness, and their willingness to sacrifice one for the other. I'd also heard how they pretty much started the damn Apocalypse in the first place!

An angelic face and piercing azure eyes flashed in my mind.

"No way!"

Genna stopped abruptly, reaching for the .38 pistol in her coat pocket.

"What?!"

"The guy who was with Dean, both times, you mean he's…"

I couldn't get the words out. I opened my mouth but only a shocked squeak squeezed itself out.

Genna rolled her eyes and removed her fragile-looking hand from the butt of her gun.

"Yes, Kellie. Creepy-trench coat-stalker-guy is Castiel. Dean's angel."

* * *

Michelle finally came-to strapped to a large steel device in a pitch black room.

"Wha..?"

Her body shivered. The room was damp and cold and deathly quiet. She tried to yank one of her arms closer to her body, but she was shackled pretty tightly.

"Hello?"

Her voice was weak and hoarse. She swallowed, her throat bone-dry. There was a bitter metallic taste in her mouth and he stomach lurched.

The sound of her retching echoed off the bare walls. She spat and inhaled deeply.

"Hello?" she called again, her voice still pitifully strained.

"Is anyone there?"

She hung her head in exhaustion, realizing in the process that she was completely nude.

"Fuck," she mumbled, closing her eyes.

C

R

E

E

A

A

K

K…

Her neck cracked as her head snapped up.

"Hello?" she called, her voice a bit stronger.

"Who's there?

_Shuffle shuffle shuffle._

She braced herself against her restraints.

"Who's there, dammit?!"

Someone was standing directly in front of her.

She could hear their heavy, jagged breathing. Smell the hot sourness of her breath in her face.

"Who are you?" she whispered into the dark.

"Shh. Don't be afraid."

A hand reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. She turned her head away, trying to avoiding the touch.

"It's all gonna be okay."

The hand retracted only to be thrust back at her, covering her mouth with a dirty, chemical-smelling rag.

"That's good. Sleep, my child. It'll all be over soon."

She tried desperately to fight off the intense wave of exhaustion, but her eyelids felt like lead and before she knew it, she was out cold.

The gloved hand, rag still clutched tight in its fingers, stroked her cheek gently.

"That's right.

Before you know it, it'll all be over."

* * *

Dean's eyes were practically glued to the Impala's windshield, his signature "game-face" set on high.

Sam sat beside him, flashlight in hand scanning over a Missouri road map.

"So, let me get this straight. This nut job thinks he can prevent the Apocalypse by sacrificing people?"

Dean looked over his brother a disgusted expression replacing his "game face."

"Pretty much," Sam sighed, clicking the flashlight off. "I'm not sure how he found out about the end of world in the first place, but he did and I guess this is his way of saving lives…taking others' lives."

Dean rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"People are crazy," he mumbled, pressing his foot harder on the gas pedal.

"So this is a real person?" I asked incredulously.

Genna tapped furiously at the laptop balanced precariously on her thin thighs.

"Without a doubt," she answered, closing the computer and sighing.

"Delrith Vladimir Putin. Age 43. Devout Pagan and certified psychopath."

I tightened my grip on violet Corvette's black leather steering wheel.

"Demons and monsters I get," I grumbled, "people, on the other hand…"

I shuddered.

"Where's this freak's 'Bat Cave?'" I asked, loosening my grip a tad.

Genna opened the Corvette's glove compartment and pulled out a crumpled Missouri road map.

"Umm…" she scanned a finger over the map. "Black Creek. It's about two hours from here."

She set the map on the car's rubber floor mat.

"Looks like we'll have to put the pedal to the metal."

I grinned, pressing my foot harder on the gas pedal.


	7. Chapter 7

He fingered the sharp blade, the whispers getting louder.

_Go on._

_Do it._

_It's for the best._

He swallowed stiffly, closing his eyes.

The whispers started about twenty years ago. He had just finished college and was looking forward to starting his career. But the whispers held him back. The warned him about things to come. Evil things. The chanted about demons, angels, hunters. The first episode left him sweaty and writhing painfully on his bedroom floor.

_Delrith._

They called. Teasing. Beckoning.

_Delrith. We need you._

He'd tried everything; earplugs, headphones, alcohol, even a few lines of cocaine. Nothing seemed to silence the banter. He'd finally decided to see a shrink, who came to the abrupt conclusion that Delrith was suffering from a severe case of schizophrenia.

"Nothing a little prescription can't fix," he had said, jotting on a small slip of blue paper, which he handed to a confused Delrith.

He had taken the thick grey pill faithfully, eager to rid his mind of the voices. He had taken that pill for fifteen years. Fifteen God damn years he had stuck to his shrink's orders. Downing the pill twice everyday with food. Nothing changed. The whispers just got more persistent. Louder, pushier. They had even found a way to control Delrith's actions. It started with a scraggly-looking stray cat.

_Go on._

_It's just an animal,_

_No harm done._

Delrith had refused, shoving his hands up against his ears and turning his back on the stray.

_Delrith._

_This is important._

His hands fell limp at his sides. _What do you mean? _He asked.

_The Apocalypse,_

_It's approaching._

_And sooner than you think._

_Do it Delrith._

_It will keep the End at bay._

And so he did. He had picked the stray up roughly. Tears stagnant in his ebony eyes, he wrapped his hands around the cat's scrawny neck. He kept his eyes on the ground and flinched at the feel of breaking bones; the snap as the stray's vertebrae cracked sickeningly. He had dropped the cat and was violently ill behind a nearby dumpster.

_Good._

The voices praised.

_Very good._

A whimper snapped him out of his thoughts and he curled his fingers around the smooth, wood handle of the knife.

_Do it, Delrith._

_Do it now._

He pulled up his blood-stained surgical mask and stopped to inspect his reflection in the cracked mirror on his bathroom wall. He hated what he saw; old ragged surgical scrubs stained with gallons and gallons of bright red dried blood, gloved hands, knife clutched tightly in one. He closed his eyes and turned away. What he had become…it frightened him to no end. He curled his free hand into a meaty fist and hurled it at the mirror. Tiny glass shards rained down to the grimy tile floor, casting a brilliant array of color on the dim walls; little rainbows.

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala up a narrow gravel driveway. At the end of the driveway stood a ramshackle cabin surrounded by dense shrubbery and unkempt grass.

"Honey, we're home," Dean sang, turning to grin childishly at Sam.

Sam just rolled his hazel eyes as he unfolded his large frame from the passenger seat.

The brothers walked cautiously up the rest of the driveway to the scarred wood of the front door, but Sam stopped in mid-stride.

"What?" Dean hissed annoyance apparent in his emerald eyes.

Sam nodded his head in the direction of the neighboring pond. A slick 1970 Corvette sat hidden by a few low hanging branches and spattering of branches.

Dean's eyebrows rose appreciatively and he whistled quietly.

"Sweet ride," he rasped, smirking at his baby brother.

"There's someone here," Sam said, a pout already forming on his face.

"Well, no duh someone's here, Sammy! We're here to take them down, remember?"

Dean turned sharply and continued to the front door of the small wood cabin.

Sam sighed and reluctantly followed, stealing one last look at the classic '70s muscle car and Sam had to agree with Dean; the car was pretty freaking sweet.

I ambled along through the halls of the rundown hunting cabin. Genna close behind me, the jingling of her skull earrings echoing off the walls.

"Where the hell are we?" she asked, her flashlight beam wobbling ahead of us.

"I honestly have no idea. But there can't be too many places you could do a ritual Pagan sacrifice in a tiny cabin."

"True."

We continued walking in silence, the beams of our flashlights illuminating cobweb-filled rooms and dirty carpet. Our footsteps shuffling along the only sound.

"HELP!"

"Did you say something?"

Genna raised an eyebrow at me and tilted her head.

"No."

"You didn't hear that?"

"Hear what?"

I shrugged.

"Guess it's nothing."

I turned to keep walking when I heard it again.

"SOMEBODY PLEASE!!"

It was louder and sounded frantic.

I turned to face Genna, arching an eyebrow.

"You hear that?"

"GOD PLEASE NOOOOOOO!!"

I don't think I ever ran that fast in my entire life.


	8. Chapter 8

"Did you hear that, Sam?"

Dean waved his flashlight, and gun, over cobwebs, dusty walls and crunchy carpet.

"Yeah," Sam whispered, ducking his head through doorways, aiming his pistol into the dark.

"Where do you think it's coming from?"

**Silence.**

_**Thump.**_

_Jingle._

"STOP!"

Sam cringed.

"I'd say below us."

Dean sighed and nodded.

Most cabins in the woods did not have built-in basements. Some did have cellars, but the entrance doors were often times a bitch to find.

This was going to be a long night.

Castiel watched her, his blue eyes unblinking. He wanted, so desperately, to help her; guide her along through the dim hallways to the concealed heavy oak doors, marking the entrance of the cellar. But he was not here to help her. And he wasn't her angel, no matter how badly he wanted to be. He didn't pull her out of Hell, she was not his charge. He sighed with his entire body, feeling the air leaving him, like a tire deflating. He took one last peek at her then vanished silently.

Genna banged the butt of her pistol against a wall.

"God Dammit!"

I sighed. We were in that cabin for what felt like hours. After that last scream, we bolted, but had no idea what we were running to.

"Don't freak, Genna. We'll find 'em."

But my words didn't sound very reassuring, not even to my own ears.

Genna huffed, frustrated, and plopped her skinny butt in the middle of the floor.

"What if we don't?" she asked, flicker her bright hazel eyes up at me pitifully.

I honestly couldn't answer her.

I was beginning to lose my own hope.

"What was that?" Dean asked his voice loud and rough in the narrow hallway.

Sam did a complete 360, flashlight and gun in hand, searching for the source of the cry.

Dean turned a corner and almost fell flat on his face.

"What the hell?!"

He pointed his flashlight at the ground.

Feet.

Feet covered in bright green Converse.

He moved the flashlight further along; long, skinny legs, Kiss t-shirt-clad torso, denim jacket. Heavily-ringed hands resting across a smallish chest.

_No way, _he thought.

_No fucking way._


	9. Chapter 9

I couldn't believe it. I could not fucking believe it. The eldest Winchester stood above Genna; his flashlight beam pointed at her small chest and ringed hands.

"No way," I said as the other brother came around the corner.

The flashlight left Genna and was brought to me; right in my freakin' eyes.

"Hey!" I yelled.

"Burn out my retinas, why don't you?!"

The older brother lowered the flashlight, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Sorry," he said, his green eyes cast downward.

Genna slowly got up from the dirty floor, her hands still crossed over her chest.

The four of us just stood there, for what felt like an eternity, staring at each other, taking it all in.

Finally, the taller man spoke, his voice deep and husky.

"What are you girls doing here? It's not safe."

Genna moved her hands from her chest to her bony hips.

"What? Just because we're girls, you don't think we can hunt just as well as you?"

The younger Winchester's face went blank in disbelief.

"Oh," he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you two were…umm…"

He swallowed and ignored the amused expression on his brother's face.

Genna held up a hand.

"Save it," she said, her expression hardened.

"Look, we've got work to do, so if you don't mind…" I cut in, turning around to leave.

"…Holy shit!!"

The "creepy-trench coat-stalker-guy," as Genna had officially dubbed him, blocked my path. And he was even more gorgeous up close.

His eyebrows were brought together in a highly-concentrated sort of way. His brilliant blue eyes seemed to glowing. A sprinkling of dark stubble decorated his strong jaw line. His dry, chapped-looking lips pursed and his stare was as intense as ever.

"Cas!"

The elder Winchester pushed his way next to me, the barrel of his pistol stabbing into my hip…at least I think it was his pistol…

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

Castiel, keeping his attention on me, opened his mouth to speak, a hint of white, straight teeth sparkling from behind his lips.

"The doors to the cellar are down this hallway. They are dead-bolted but I know that won't hold you up."

He removed his gaze from my face to look at the older brother.

"Th..Thanks, Cas," he said, a shocked expression on his face.

Castiel stepped aside to let the four of us through. But stuck a hand on the older Winchester's shoulder to hold him back.

"Be careful, Dean. He is only human, but far more capable of serious damage than you would think."

Dean nodded and Castiel let him through. I was the last one to pass the angel. Even with my head down, watching the carpet, I could feel his skin-searing eyes.

I looked up after passing him, to see if he was still there, but he was gone.

The four hunters trudged on as the hallway they were in began to angle downward sharply.

"You know," Genna huffed, a bit out of breath, "for being such a tiny little cabin, this thing sure has a butt load of hallways."

The others grunted their agreement.

"So," Dean spoke up, turning his head to look at the young woman with the "sexy librarian" glasses walking pretty closely next to him.

"Yeah?" She asked, not looking at him.

"Seems like you have a thing for Cas."

Kellie whipped her head to glare at him disbelievingly.

"What?!" she asked.

"Oh, come one. You know you wanna bang my angel. Don't deny it." Dean smirked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Kellie lowered her head to stare at her beat-up black Converse.

_God, this guy, _she thought.

_I mean, I heard he's a major horn-dog, but come on!_

_It's not even himself he's talking about!_

She lifted her head up to stare at the back of Genna's head, Sam's head, anything but Dean's probing green eyes would do.

"Well…"

She was cut off when Sam and Genna stopped abruptly, causing her and Dean to bump into the back of them.

"Cas wasn't wrong when he said the doors were dead-bolted."

Sam whistled, running his fingers over the multiple padlocks and deadbolts decorating the heavy oak cellar doors.

"Think you can handle this?" he asked, turning his head to look at his brother.

"Abso-fricken-lutely," Dean said, his face lighting up. To Kellie, he looked like a little kid in a candy store.

Dean knelt in front of the doors, flashlight under his arm, gun on the floor, lock pick in hand. Kellie counted exactly five seconds before Dean reached out a hand and pushed the heavy door open with a soft creak.

_Impressive, _she thought, following Sam and her best friend into the dark.


	10. Chapter 10

Michelle fought. She fought for her life. The man stood closely in front of her, a blood-stained knife in his hand, blood on his gloves, and blood on his surgical mask. Numerous cuts and gouges decorated her Michelle's body. The pain was almost unbearable and she was sure she lost pretty much half of her blood supply already.

"Please," she whined weakly. Her strength was gone and she was starting to lose hope. She was dying. No, she was already dead. Silent tears stung her eyes, blurring the man's crazed ebony eyes and light green face mask.

"Don't fret, my child," he crooned, using the dull edge of the knife to lift her head.

"Just a bit longer and it'll all be over."

Michelle closed her eyes, preparing herself for the final blow. The one that would end it all.

"DON'T MOVE!"

Michelle opened her eyes in just enough time to watch her captor drop his weapon and raise his bloodied hands.

_I'm saved! _Michelle thought groggily. He body started to feel weightless and she found it difficult to keep her eyes open. She felt the restraints break away from her hands and feet; huge warm hands lifter her from the metal rack, cradling her in rock hard arms. She sighed as she was set carefully on the ground, a soft blanket placed over her freezing body.

"Can you hear me?" A deep, faraway voice asked.

Michelle cracked open an eye to stare up at the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. His brown hair was shaggy and hung lazily into his sultry hazel eyes. His skin was smooth and tan, the muscles of his arms bulged under a button-down plaid shirt and Card hart jacket. His expression was one of genuine concern and she smiled weakly.

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled incoherently.

"Dean!" the man said, turning away from her.

"Help me out here! We have to get her to a hospital!"

_Hospital, shmospital, _Michelle thought.

_Dying's okay with me as long as I'm in your arms._

Then everything went black.

I knelt beside Delrith's body. His still-open ebony eyes stared up at me, frightened.

"Kellie."

I stood up slowly, wincing as my knees groaned in apparent protest.

"Kellie," Genna said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Come on. We're following Dean and Sam to the hospital."

I turned to her and nodded.

"I'll be out in a minute," I replied.

Genna smiled at me then leaned to whisper in my ear.

"Dean is so getting some tonight."

I looked at her, my dark brown eyes wide.

She winked at me and disappeared quickly up the cellar steps.

I shook my head, laughing.

"Genna, Genna, Genna," I smiled.

Delrith stared up at me, no humor evident on his face. I sighed, reached down, and closed his eyelids with my two fingers.

"I know you were trying to help, but sacrificing people is not the way to go."

I emptied a can of lighter fluid and salt over his body and reached into my purple windbreaker's pocket for my match booklet, yanked a think wood match out and lit it.

"Good riddance," I whispered, dropping the match and watching as Delrith's body was engulfed in fluorescent orange-yellow flames.


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel sat in silence on the motel bed. His heart ached. Each heart beat was agonizing and thinking about her round face, and chocolate-brown eyes only made it worse. He ran a hand over his face and through his dark messy mop of hair. He had spoken to Anna earlier, bringing his ordeal up to her. She had cracked a wide smile and chuckled softly, reminiscing about her one-time fling with Castiel's charge.

"It's okay to feel like this, Castiel," she had said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"But what do I do?" he had asked, "This is so new to me."

His blue eyes had cast downward at his vessel's hands.

Anna hadn't been much help. She just said exactly what Dean told him; "It's love Castiel, not rocket science. Just go along with it."

And now here he was, sitting on Dean's bed waiting for him to return.

He was about to leave, disappointed, when the motel room's door creaked open.

"Cas, I know you're here," Dean's voice called.

"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied, pushing himself up to his feet.

"Genna and Kellie are outside," Dean said matter-of-factly, tossing his jacket on the bed Castiel was just sitting on.

The angel tilted his head at his change, his eyebrows scrunching.

"Those are their names?" he asked, stepping closer to Dean.

"Yup," Dean answered, watching Cas intently.

Castiel moved his eyes to the motel's dark violet carpet. He knew what Dean was trying to do, but Castiel couldn't follow along, not just yet.

"How is the victim?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Michelle?" Dean asked. The angel nodded, his inquisitive expression unchanged.

"She's going to be okay." Dean chuckled as he sat on his bed.

"You should've seen her, she as pretty much worshipping Sam."

Castiel's face hardened.

"That's blasphemous."

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Not like that, Cas, chill! I mean she was, like, in love with him when she first saw him."

Castiel cringed at the L-word. It sill sounded foreign to him, especially since now he knew what it felt like. It weirded him out.

Dean noticed Cas's reaction and grinned.

"Where's Sam now?" Castiel asked, trying to compose himself.

"Still at the hospital. Hopefully he'll get some. Dude's been such a little bitch lately, it's not even funny. A little non-demon loving is probably the best thing for him."

Dean looked up at Castiel. Only to find the angel staring out the partially opened window.

"Cas?"

Castiel tore his eyes away from her.

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean's expression was soft, serious.

"Do you want to talk to her?

I watched, leaning against the front of my Corvette as Genna disappeared into the Winchester's motel room. I grinned widely.

_All right, Genna! _I thought, sticking my hands into the shallow pockets of my jeans.

So I sat there, alone, in the dark. Don't get me wrong; being outside at night by myself doesn't faze me in the least, in fact it's very relaxing, but a dull throb in my heart sort of took the calming effect out of it. His blue eyes, hard expression and pursed lips flashed in my mind, making the throb more pronounced.

"Only one thing can make this night absolutely perfect," I said to myself, staring up at the stars.

"And what's that?" A gruff voice from behind me made me jump a little. I removed myself from the hood of my pride and joy to face the source of the voice.

Castiel appeared from the shadows and stood directly in the path of a shimmering moonbeam. The light made strands of his dark hair shine with a sort of gold tinge.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, and a corner of his beautiful mouth quirked up in a kind of smirk.

"Now it's absolutely perfect," I breathed.


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel's heart beat rapidly. All of this was so new and kind of overwhelming, but he didn't want any of it to stop. Her hair was soft under his vessel's hands, her body warm against his. His breath caught in his throat as she moved even closer to him, on her tiptoes to make up for the height difference.

He was hesitant at first, her lips practically on his, but he gave in. How could he not? Their lips connected and a jolt of energy spread from Castiel's lips down to his toes. He pretty much lost himself in her. Their kiss deepened and she ran her hands through his dark messy brown hair as his hands rubbed her back delicately. Castiel would have to experiment further, but he was sure the little moans that escaped her mouth was a sign that he was doing something right.

There they stayed under night sky, bodies intertwined rolling around in the lush green grass.

Castiel was positive that he liked being in love.

Really liked it.

Genna stuffed her duffle bag into the back of the Corvette, Dean standing beside her, a small pout on his face.

I sat in the driver's seat, Cas next to me, his hand over mine.

"Poor Dean," I sighed, smiling sweetly, watching as the elder Winchester pulled my friend into a tight, extremely long hug.

Castiel breathed a soft laugh, but never took his eyes from the dashboard.

"I don't want to leave you, Cas," I said, my voice wobbling.

_Now I know how Dean feels, _I thought.

"I know," Castiel said, stroking my palm with his thumb.

"I don't want you to leave either. But we both have jobs to do and no matter how much it's hurting right now, we have to stay strong."

Castiel looked into my eyes. I could feel tears building up but fought them back.

"You're the only one who's ever made me feel like this," Castiel said, his face sad, his blue eyes glazed over and teary-looking.

I smiled, the tears escaping and rolling freely down my cheeks. I squeezed his hand and he reached over, wiping my tears away with the sleeve of his trench coat.

"For someone who never knew love before, you sure do all the right things," I choked out.

The angel smiled.

"Easier than I thought it was going to be."

Dean tapped on my window, signaling that he was done with Genna and she was ready to go. I nodded and smiled a water grin at him. Dean returned the smile, his green eyes radiating sympathy.

Castiel cupped my damp face in his hands, brushing away stray tears with his thumbs.

"I'll never forget you, Kellie," he whispered, bringing my face towards his and kissing me gently.

"Right back at ya, Angel Boy," I replied, grinning.

He smiled, his eyes sad and then he was gone.

"I love you, Castiel," I whispered pitifully.

Dean hugged me tightly.

"It was great meeting you two," he said, his expression joking, but his eyes giving off a hint of sadness.

"Same to you," Genna said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her denim jacket.

"Tell Sam we said 'Bye'," I added, slipping back behind the wheel of the Corvette.

"Oh! One last thing," Dean said, handing me a blank white card with a phone number on the back side.

"It's my cell. In case you need anything, give me a call."

He winked one bright green eye at me.

_Translation: In case you want to see Castiel again._

I smiled.

"Thanks, Dean," I said, revving the car's engine.

Dean whistled above the noise.

"And once again,

Freakin' sweet ride."

Genna and I waved until Dean and the Impala were nothing but a couple of dots in the distance.

"Well," Genna said, sighing deeply, "I'd say that was an extremely gratifying job."

I smiled.

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

"Hells Bells'" intro guitar lick interrupted our conversation and I jumped.

I shot Genna a confused look and she shrugged as I flipped open my phone.

"'Lo?"

"Kellie? It's Amanda. I have a job for you and Genna down here."

"Where is it?" I asked, Genna staring at me questioningly.

"Texas," Amanda replied.

"All right, we'll be there as soon as we can," I said before snapping my phone closed.

"So?" Genna asked.

"Looks like we're going to Texas," I said, grinning widely at Genna.

"Guess you know what that means," Genna said, cocking an eyebrow excitedly at me.

I laughed and flicked on the radio.

"**Road Trip!!!!"**

**The End**

_**Won't you come see about me?**_

_**I'll be alone, dancing you know it, baby**_

_**Tell me your troubles and doubts**_

_**Giving me everything inside and out and**_

_**Loves strange so real in the dark**_

_**Think of the tender things that we were working on**_

_**Slow change may pull us apart**_

_**When the light gets in your heart, baby**_

_**Don't you forget about me**_

_**Don't don't don't don't**_

_**Don't you forget about me**_

_Comments pleeeeeaaasssseeeee =D_


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